


It Must Be The Rum

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-21
Updated: 2003-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 01:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1625273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commodore Norrington finds himself in an unwanted, yet not entirely unpleasant situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Must Be The Rum

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Gloria Mundi

 

 

A/N: I wanted a good back-story for this unlikely pairing to take place, and so I had intended to write this fic from the beginning, but unfortunately realised that the time was too short for that. If I find the time and inclination, I will write the prequel, and probably sequel as well. If ya'll want to read it, of course. Let me know! For the time being, however, you will have to settle for the short summary below. 

And a big thank you to my wonderful beta Captain Sevi, who I am sure made this piece a bit more readable...! 

_Useless_ _trivia_ _of_ _the_ _day_ : Sparrows have, actually, been observed to systematically and repeatedly steal food from other birds. 

Disclaimer: Borrowed without permission. No intention of giving them back. Really. 

_This_ _has_ _happened_ : 

A few months have passed since Jack escaped from Port Royal. Norrington, on the navy's new pride - the Siren - was giving chase to the Black Pearl. The Pearl was far ahead when another ship, the pirate ship Columbine came into play, attacking the naval vessel. It looked to become a short fight, as the pirate ship had the upper hand, when the more heavily armed Black Pearl suddenly turned and approached the fighting ships. The Columbine left in a hurry, but when the Black Pearl arrived it was too late to save The Siren, who, as she had taken several shots below the waterline, was almost down. Norrington and his few surviving men were pulled from the water, on some indecipherable whim of one Captain Jack Sparrow. As this tale begins, Norrington finds himself in the captain's quarters, in the company of none other than the captain himself.   
 

* * *

  


"I fail to understand the necessity of you keeping me here, Mr Sparrow." 

"Well, _Mr_ Norrington..." The dark eyed man abruptly turned on his heels, once again facing his captive. "As much as I would like to dump you on some godforsaken spit of land-", here he paused, introspectively, hands stilling their irate movements, before giving a small smirk and refocusing on the man in front of him, "I won't." 

The taller man straightened himself, pulling the borrowed shirt tighter round his still wet body, and glared depreciatingly towards the grinning pirate. 

"And why, pray tell, will you not?" 

"Ah, I think that will be my little secret for now, won't it? Rum?" 

Jack politely held out the half full bottle towards the Commodore, who merely shook his head disdainfully. Shrugging, the pirate captain downed most of the contents himself. 

Norrington narrowed his eyes, and with his hands clasped stiffly behind his back, made way to the small window. Peering outside, all he could see was the waves, violently crashing against the hull. The ocean was scarcely illuminated by the lanterns on the ship, but even so, the water seemed darker than usual. 

"Come on, Commodore. Surely you don't think me so heartless", here Jack paused in his abundant gesturing to lay a hand on his heart, "as to let you and your men perish unnecessarily in the clutches of the ocean. I'm not like that, savvy?" 

Norrington slowly turned around to face him and raised a sardonic eyebrow. 

"Indeed." 

Jack narrowed his eyes, but provided no answer. 

"I am a Commodore of the British Royal Navy. Do you really think my men will let this go unpunished?" 

Unfortunately, the dripping hair and damp piratical clothes rather ruined the confident and imperious impression he so dearly wanted to convey. Jack brought his hands apart in a grand gesture and smiled lopsidedly at Norrington. 

"They have yet to catch me. And you haven't had much success in the endeavour before, have you. What makes you think your luck would change now, eh?" 

Norrington opened his mouth to make a suitably indignant retort, but found to his horror not he could think of none. Instead, he satisfied himself by glaring at Sparrow once again, and then reaching for the now discarded bottle on the table. The gulp made his eyes water - how could the man drink this stuff with such ease? Of course, being already halfway drunk all the time might help, Norrington thought to himself. He took another swig, not noticing the increasingly interested look on the pirates face as he watched him. 

"What say you to a drinking contest?" 

Norrington almost sputtered out what rum he had in his mouth, but before he could protest to this ludicrous idea, Jack raised his hands defensively. 

"Just hear me out, mate!" he said insisted disarmingly and continued quickly before Norrington had time to open his mouth, "You win, I let you off at the port of your choice. I win, you stay without any protests. Savvy?" 

Norrington considered this for a moment. The idea was ludicrous, of course, but... If he won, his problem would be solved, and he would be free to find himself a new ship and give this, this pirate what he so rightfully deserved. And if he lost, well, it could hardly make the situation any worse, could it? There was, of course, no response to his unspoken question, and so he settled on a terse nod and a tight smile. 

"Fine." He said, and sat down at the table. 

Jack collected a few bottles from a carefully hidden and locked drawer under his bed. 

"Can't be too careful with me treasures, all right?" he said wistfully, in response to the Commodores inquiring gaze. He found two small glasses and quickly cleaned them up with a rag, before putting them on the table, one in front of Norrington and one in front of himself. They were quickly filled with the golden liquid, gleaming alluringly in the faint light. 

"Now, to make this more interesting... We each ask the other a question, and if we don't want to answer it, we take a drink. Only honest answers. First one down loses." 

Jack's eyes gleamed with anticipation, and Norrington began to question the wisdom in taking this chance with the notorious drunk. The man could hold his liquor like none other, he had heard. But this was his chance for both freedom and revenge, and he'd be damned if he was not going to take it. He inclined his head. 

"I start", Norrington said, wryly. "Why do you insist upon keeping me here? Surely you're not afraid of my coming after you, are you?" 

Jack said nothing, but smiled enigmatically and downed the glass. 

"My turn. And that was two questions by the way." Jack told him flippantly, and put one of his ring-clad fingers to his lips, angling his head back in a mockingly thoughtful manner. "Tell me", he said, "what bothered you the most, that _I_ saved Elisabeth when she fell off the cliff into the water, or that _you_ didn't?" 

Norrington blanched at the question. 

"That is none of your business!" 

"Ah, too bad then." He looked the man intently in the eyes. "Answer me, or drink up. Your choice, of course." 

The Commodore looked between the glass and the pirate, trying to decide which was the least evil of the two. He settled for the glass, taking it in his hand and looking at it suspiciously. 

"Oh, come on, it's not poisoned or the like." Jack drawled, unhelpfully. "Just drink it, mate." 

Norrington took a deep breath, and took a gulp. As it had done before, the rum stung his eyes and throat. He quickly took another swig, though, and another, and discovered that the effect of the first gulps did indeed drown out the taste of the others. Curious. He finished the glass and resolutely clamped it down on the table, refusing to meet Jack's undoubtedly amused eyes. Feeling his head spin, just a little, made him grow vengeful. 

"What happened when you got that pirate brand? The great Jack Sparrow actually got caught?" He said this with as much disdain as he could muster, relieved that he did not slur at all. 

Jack's amusement faded a little, but true to his cheery demeanour, he smirked at Norrington. 

" _Captain_ ", he corrected the Commodore, " _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. Now, you know as well as I do that it's not catching me that's the hardest part, it's keeping me caught once you've managed to catch me. Unfortunately, the East India Trading Company does not wait for trial to condemn those they've deemed guilty. Their views on piracy are most disconcerting. Much as your own, I must say. But to keep the story short; they caught me, they branded me, and how it came that they did nothing more, is a story for another day." He paused meaningfully. "Or another question." 

Feeling as though he did not really receive a satisfactory answer to his question, Norrington narrowed his eyes. "You did not answer my question. How did you get caught?" 

"Ah, now, that wasn't really the question, was it?" 

Norrington was about to protest when he realised that the pirate was, indeed, right. Jack continued without prodding, though. 

"See, I was minding me own business, and needed supplies. This was before I lost the Pearl, mind you. There was this very nice port nearby, and so I decided to stop by and pick up some supplies. Nothing unseemly, I assure you. Apparently my reputation had travelled before me, for when I left my ship I was met by a group of rather unfriendly looking soldiers. Now, that wouldn't normally have been a problem, 'cept that the men were just a little too eager to please their commander, if you catch my drift." 

"I'm afraid I don't, Mr Sparrow." 

Jack just looked at Norrington slyly, and continued. 

"They saw my tattoo, managed to put two and two together and amazingly enough get it to equal five. According to their book, one pirate plus one innocent little town must equal sacking, looting and otherwise unprovoked pilfering. Interesting how the simple mind works, isn't it? Almost had them convinced to let me go, hadn't it been for their superior walking by at just the wrong moment. He looked at me, made his judgement and ordered the branding iron to be brought." Jack gestured to his arm. "This is the result." He looked at the Commodore intently. "It's funny, isn't it, that I got this brand when I, for once, was conducting my business in an altogether honest fashion. Funny how people tend to judge others by their own misconceptions, eh?" 

Norrington considered this, and felt slightly guilty. Only slightly though, and he credited it all to the rum. The man was, after all, a pirate, and deserved to be treated as one. Although... 

"It must have hurt." Norrington said, frowning, painful memories of branding cattle in his childhood resurfacing from their discussion. 

"Aye." Jack agreed, regretfully. He studied the Commodore for a moment, and then, in an abrupt change of mood, said flourishly, "My turn again!" 

Norrington felt like closing his eyes and burying his head in his hands at the seemingly innocent tone of Jack's voice, but deemed such an action unwise in their present situation. Instead he merely sighed, and motioned for the pirate to continue on with the game. 

"I wonder... What is hiding behind those starched uniform and stiff demeanour?" 

The Commodore stared at Jack, who simply shrugged. "Just curious," he explained. 

"What do you mean?" Norrington asked, shocked. 

"What do I mean? I'm just asking to see the real you, behind your commodore-mask. Surely this is not how you normally behave?" 

"This is hardly a normal situation! I make a point of avoiding negotiations with pirates, especially on their ships as a prisoner!" Norrington felt his frustrations get the better of him, but at the moment, he did not care. 

Jack merely smiled and cocked his head to the side. "Normal or not, this is the situation you have found yourself in. Make the most of it, eh? And answer my question. Or drink." 

His adversary made to speak again, but the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. After a moment, Norrington took up his now full glass of rum and drank it with considerably more ease he had the previous time. 

Jack was annoyingly cheerful as he patted the officer on his back and exclaimed, "See! It's gets easier every time, mate! Take it from someone with a great deal of experience..." Here Jack winked, amused when he made Norrington flush a little. Probably just the rum though, he thought, regretfully. 

Norrington was beginning to feel the effects of the drinks, and they made him feel bolder. 

"Yes. Tell me, how did you get off that island?" 

The pirate looked decidedly uncomfortable, and opened his mouth as if to answer. He closed it again, however, only to open it once more. Finally he glared at the amused officer, and downed his glass in one gulp. 

"A shame," Norrington said. "I was actually quite curious." His head was spinning, but in quite an enjoyable way, and he began to relax a bit. Maybe this wasn't so bad, after all. 

"It's me, again!" Jack exclaimed, swaying a bit in his chair. "Now what question to pick..." He pondered this for a while, then suddenly rose from his chair and turned to face Norrington. 

"Why are you so intent on seeing me hanged?" His hands moved in time with his words, and the swaying of his body was almost hypnotic. Norrington swallowed hard. 

"Because you're a pirate!" he answered automatically. 

"Ah, but there are so many pirates out there, with a record full of more severe crimes than I'd even consider. Surely they pose a more dangerous threat to your precious law than lil' 'ol me, eh?" 

Mesmerised by the man's gracefully weaving hands, it took Norrington a moment to realise Jack had stopped talking. 

"I," he said, faltering. "I..." He looked helplessly between the pirate and the glass. "Because you insist on sailing around Port Royal bothering innocent people, that's why." 

"You know me better than that, don't you? I haven't bothered anyone near Port Royal since I escaped the noose. Which, in itself, might have been a bother to you, I suppose. But you did let me go, so I think we're passed that already." Jack grinned. "No, luv, you have to do better than that." 

Norrington was silent, pondering the question. Why _did_ he obsess so with catching this, admittedly, relatively harmless pirate? Relatively, mind you. Not completely harmless... Realising he did not have an immediate answer, nor the desire to find one within himself, Norrington resigned himself to downing his glass once again. It really did go down so much easier once you got used to it. Indeed, he could almost... His musings were interrupted by the realisation that Jack still was still standing rather close, watching him with those fathomless dark eyes of his. That kohl was so... Ridiculous! Or, it should be, and it would be on anyone else, if it weren't so fascinating... Making his eyes even darker, deeper... Abruptly, Norrington realised he was staring openly into Jack's eyes, and that the pirate was returning his gaze, only a hint of the customary smirk on his face. Norrington shook his head to clear it. Didn't help much. 

"My turn," he said, still a bit bewildered. 

Jack smiled a strange smile at Norrington, and gracefully sat down again. 

"Why won't you leave me alone?" Norrington finally asked, unable to bear the tense silence any longer. 

"You?" Jack asked, amused at this sudden outburst. 

"You know what I mean. Why don't you leave my waters and go pester someone else?" Norrington was perturbed to notice that a slight slur had somehow sneaked into his speech. A lock of his drying hair kept making its way to his eyes, and he absently flicked it away. 

"Ah, your waters... It's just as much mine, y'know? The ocean belongs to no man, that's what makes her so free. So tempting." 

"That's not an answer." 

"No, it isn't," Jack agreed, and downed his glass. "What's your given name? All this commodore business is getting rather tiresome, wouldn't you say?" 

"James," Norrington replied, more readily than he would have liked. He frowned. Damned rum. "However did you get _your_ ridiculous name?" He slurred a bit on ridiculous, trying to compensate for his inebriation by enunciating the word clearly. 

"Well, James," Jack said happily, "that name has a long story behind it. But to keep it short, Jack was my nickname, short for John, actually. I simply decided I liked Jack better. And Sparrow... Well, I've always liked birds." His voice grew wistful. "Used to watch them as a youngster, imagining I could fly... People called me little sparrow." He smiled again. "I was small and quick-witted, good at stealing things. Besides, it has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Jack Sparrow... Free as a bird." 

"You forgot 'Captain'," James supplied, slurring more now. He had taken up the glass unbidden, just felt like holding it, and was now sipping absently. Jack didn't comment on this, but looked decidedly pleased with himself. 

"Aye, that I did," he supplied. 

James smiled back at Jack for a moment, but then grew serious again. 

"Did you know your crew was coming to your rescue?" he asked him. 

Jack frowned, confused, and then it dawned on him what James was referring to. 

"Ah. To be honest with you - not that I'm not always, mind you - no, I didn't. When I stood on that platform, I thought for a moment I was done with. Then I saw Mr. Cotton's parrot, and of course dear William, dressed up so fancy and all. That's when I began to hope again. There was that horrendous moment, though, when I was dropped hanging." He smirked, showing off the glinting gold on his teeth. "Guess I owe my life to Will, for that. Once free from the noose, I knew all I had to do was get into the water, away from you and your eager men. And it worked out fine, save for some... miscalculations towards the end. But I got my Pearl back, and that's all that really counts," he said, earnestly. 

And James believed him. Inevitably, he came to think of his own ships, sunk into the depths of the ocean. First the Interceptor, and now, The Siren. As if reading his mind, Jack spoke up. 

"I'm sorry 'bout your ship, James." 

"Ships," James corrected gloomily. "And don't call me that." He filled his glass again, and quickly downed it's renewed contents. 

"Aye, ships..." Jack grew silent, tending to his own glass. 

Each man sat with his own thoughts for a while, in a comfortable silence that was broken only by the sloshing of the rum, when something suddenly occurred to James. He looked up at Jack in surprise. 

"You said that you hadn't bothered anyone in Port Royal since that day. And it's true, isn't it?" 

Jack looked at him, amused at his train of thought. 

"Why of course it's true, I said so before, didn't I?" 

"No, what I mean is, I haven't heard anything about you or your ship attacking anyone, stirring up trouble, nothing. What have you done all this time?" 

"Well... You remember Isla de Muerta, right? Of course you do, who'd forget those undeads..." Jack suppressed a shudder at the memory. "We solved it, and it's over. But the treasure remained, savvy?" He leered. "Be a good shame to have left it be, wouldn't you say?" 

"So what you're saying is... you've gone back?" James asked him in disbelief. 

"Aye, that I have. Collected bits and pieces, leaving that cursed chest alone. Thinking about heaving it down through the depths Davy Jones' Locker, to make sure no one ever comes up with the idea of opening it again..." His eyes grew distant for a moment, but with a small shake, he brought himself back to the present. "No need to harass people when I got what I need. Well, gotta take a ship from time to time to keep the crew from mutiny, but no need to take risks for the sake of adventure. 'Twas more than enough for all of us in that cave, and there's plenty left. First thing I did was repair my Pearl." He put his glass down hard on the table in sudden anger. "That bastard took no care of her. Can't believe I trusted him." He looked at James, eyes burning. "That's what's trust does to you, James. Breaks your heart, it does. Takes what it can. Gives nothing back." 

Jack slumped back in his chair, eyes suddenly sad and his smile wistful. James felt strangely sad, sad for the pirate and, unaccountably, sad for himself. So this was what they were reduced to; two men, wary of trust and betrayal. His sudden insight into Jack's behaviour was frightening, but at the same time it felt right. If felt right to be sitting here, sharing unspoken thoughts with the pirate. With Jack. Must be the rum, he thought. It must be. He felt his eyelids starting to droop shut. 

To lighten the mood and avoid falling asleep, he tried to think of another question for Jack. Ah. That's a good one. 

"Jack," he said, dimly aware that he no longer felt it necessary to address the man by his surname, wondering why, but somehow not caring for the answer. "What happened on that island, with Elisabeth. She seemed quite pleased with herself, and I refuse to believe it was all due to having survived a night there intact with you. And you seemed to be in an uncharacteristically bad mood that day, didn't you?" 

Jack mumbled something under his breath. James sighed. 

"What did you say?" 

Jack, eyes wide, opened his mouth a few times, seeking the right words, then blurting out; 

"She burned my rum, ok?" 

James just looked at him, incredulously. 

"She got me drunk," at which James raised an eyebrow, mumbling something about it not being that much of a feat, which was pointedly ignored by Jack, "and while I was still asleep, she burnt the food, the shade, and... and the rum! She burnt the rum! I tell you, James, you're better off without that little vixen! She's out of control!" 

James looked at him silently, his mouth twitching. Then without warning, he burst into laughter. 

"She... tricked... you..." he managed to gasp out between fits. "I've... never..." 

Jack look at him sternly, eyes narrowed, but as James showed no sign of stopping, the corner of the mouth of the irate pirate began to twitch as well. Before long, Jack joined Norrington in the laughing, more at the absurdity of the present situation than the memory of the actual rum burning. As the laughter slowly abated, Jack raised his glass. 

"A toast then," he proposed, "to successfully avoiding such vixens in the future." 

James, still smiling, held out his glass. 

"And to avoiding being marooned on the whole," he added. 

"Amen to that!" Jack supplied, and they both gulped down the contents of their glasses. 

Jack looked down his nose at James, a small smirk playing on his lips. 

"I'd say, you're getting real good at this. It'll take you years to achieve the same level as I, naturally, but you're well on your way. Every considered becoming a pirate?" 

"No." James said, shortly, then started to laugh again. "Can't say that I have." 

"Well, you should!" Jack slurred, accentuating his statement with a flamboyant gesture, that surely would have emptied his glass had it not been emptied already. He quickly remedied that, however, filling up James's glass as well. He took a generous swallow, then asked a bit more seriously: 

"Tell me, "he paused to consider his glass, "what hurt you most that day, losing Elisabeth," he leaned forward towards James, looking seriously into the steely grey eyes, "or losing me?" 

James blinked. The close proximity of the other man did nothing to calm his now rampaging thoughts. What was he asking? 

"I..." James attempted to answer the question, though he was not quite sure himself what to say. "The navy's my life, you know. It's all I have. And all I'll ever have. Elisabeth's gone. And..." James stopped and swallowed, his words faltering. 

"And me?" Jack asked, a strange light burning in his eyes. 

"And you, " James agreed. "You are... I don't know." He turned away. 

But Jack did not back away, and James could feel his hot breath on his cheek. Jack opened his mouth, and for a moment James tensed in anticipation, till he realised Jack only meant to speak. 

"Surely you can see my dilemma? As we've all agreed upon, I am a pirate and a good man. As a good man, I could hardly have left you in the water to die. Now, as a pirate, I cannot let you go either. Who's to say you won't be the one catching me next time, and I'd rather stay away from the noose for good, as it were." 

Norrington found it hard to concentrate - must be the rum - but he could read the, well, logic behind the other mans words. He slowly turned to face the pirate again, wary of what he might see. As grey eyes met brown, he nearly gasped at the intensity of the stare. Closing his eyes, he whispered: 

"What if I gave you my word?" 

"The word of a Commodore of the British Royal Navy," Jack paused for effect. "Or the word of a man. We both know that your line of work would make such a promise impossible. No matter your intentions." 

"I... I..." James had no answer, and his eyes slid from Jack's eyes to his lips. Full lips, full of promise of... No. He shook himself slightly. What was he doing? He met the deep, brown eyes for a moment, unable to look away. 

The pirate chuckled, but it was a sad sound, lacking in the cheery way he normally conducted things. 

"Painful," Jack whispered, eyes still burning, but with a different light this time. It held no promise, only sadness. 

James looked away, and the pirate moved to sit in his chair once again. A new filling of their glasses, and the empty bottle was discarded. A new one was promptly opened, and Jack relished in the deep swallows he took. James followed his lead, and took a few healthy gulps himself. His head was spinning now, and he knew he could not credit it all from the rum. It did not help, of course, but the trying day was starting to take its toll. The fight, loosing so many of his men, from the water watching his ship as he tread the water, _his_ ship, go down to forever rest on the ocean floor. The cold he'd felt, not only from the sea. And, indeed, had the Pearl not turned around, they'd all be lost by now. Curious that, how he now suddenly owed his life to a pirate, to _Jack_ no less. He felt weak, tired, and realised it was most likely late at night. It had been a long day. Eyes drifting shut, he did not realise he had lain down his head on the table. Within moments, before conscious thought had the chance of kicking in, he was asleep. 

Jack rose from his chair, rather unsteadily, and made a soft tsk-ing sound. 

"Can't hold your liquor, can you James," he said, rather wistfully. "But that's all for the best, really, for me," he added, nodding as if agreeing with himself. Which he did, of course. Anything else would be, well, strange. "Indeed," he muttered. 

Sighing deeply, he threw one last look at the sleeping commodore, before walking out of the cabin, closing the doors quietly behind him. Softly murmuring endearments under his breath, he swaggered up to take the helm from Anamaria. She frowned at him but left quickly, glad for the respite he supposed. The pirate captain stood there alone, his hands caressing the wheel, quietly singing songs for his beloved as he steered her through the seemingly endless, dark night.   
 

* * *

 

 


End file.
